no one to whom we can communicate our hopes and fears, our joys and griefs. At such a time the heart feels desolate. But let not believers despond; for though alone in appearance, they are not alone in reality. No! the wise, the compassionate Father is with them—the gracious and loving Son is with them—the cheering and sanctifying Spirit is with them; and just for the seeking they will be always with them. With such company, who should feel lonely?

why should it be otherwise with his people! To shrink from the cross is to forfeit the|| crown.

"If we suffer, we shall also reign with him; if we deny him, he also will deny us.”—2 TIM. ii. 12.

end of the world."-MATT. xxviii. 20.

“Think it not hard, if you get not your will nor your delight in this life. God will have you to rejoice in nothing but himself."

God breaks the cistern to bring us to the fountain-he withers our gourds that he himself may be our shade he puts out the dim taper that we may rejoice only in the light of

the sun.

Can there be anything hard in this? No; the real hardship would be to get our wills and our delights in this life; for then would this vain world become our all, and Christ and eternity be forgotten. Truly we should be content to have our wills crossed, and our pleasures marred here, seeing that in heaven we shall not only get an infinity and an eternity of delight, but the gratification of our will to the fullest extent. The will of the redeemed shall then be in such eternal harmony with the will of the Redeemer, that whatever they will shall be done, and whatever they desire shall be granted. Delightful prospect !

"Follow him, and think it not hard that you receive a blow with your Lord; take part with Jesus of his sufferings, and glory in the marks of Christ."

We must think it neither hard nor strange to suffer with our Lord. Suffering is an unfailing badge of discipleship-a thing to be expecteda privilege to be enjoyed. The disciples of old rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for the name of Jesus, and so should we. The disciple is not above his Master. If our Lord himself gave his back to the smiters, and his cheek to them that plucked off the hair,

forming power which it possesses is less strikingly developed in those who, previously to their spiritual renovation, have enjoyed a degree of moral and mental cultivation, than in those, whom it has found in a state of rude and vicious degradation, but whom it has civilized into men, and purified into Christians. Though the divine influence of the Holy Spirit is as indispensable in the one case as in the other, and the heart of the most strictly moral and the most polished heart of the most uncultivated and depraved, needs the same spiritual regeneration as the yet the change is more striking, and the contrast more pointed and interesting in the latter case than in the former; just as the flowery regions encircling the Alpine summits become infinitely more interesting and beautiful from they border, and with which they are so imthe contiguity of the eternal snows on which pressively contrasted.

Yet it may be safely asserted, that the grace of God in the poor and the wretched does not attract sufficient admiration, though I believe there are innumerable cases to be found among class of human society, which furnish illustrious the very lowest, and once the most degraded, monuments of the power of the Gospel, and which will possibly appear, in the celestial world, among the most conspicuous trophies of the grace of Christ. The conversion of an individual in the higher circles is contemplated with admiration, and published with triumph, partly, it may be presumed, on account of his worldly importance, and partly on account of the rarity of such occurrences; sometimes, too, on account of the influence which such individuals may be supposed to exert, through a gay and wide circle, in favour of the neglected truths and unfelt power of Christianity.

I would on no account detract from the im

portance, or abridge the éclat of such interesting and delightful occurrences. Several such, in

From "The Pastor's Sketch-Book." London : 1829. In

our third Number we inserted a narrative, entitled the Mis sionary Legacy, and added a note, stating that we were not aware where it first appeared, but had copied it from a foreign journal. We were happy to receive a note soon after stating that the narrative was originally drawn up by him. from our esteemed contributor, Dr Redford of Worcester, and inserted in the same work as that in which the above story appears, viz., "The Pastor's Sketch- Book," which he edited." We think it right to state this to our readers, as we know very many of them were exceedingly interested by the

story.

modern times, have powerfully illustrated the spirituality and purity of the Gospel-have given confidence and joy to many of the Lord's servants, and are circulating a healthful and happy influence over large portions of society in several parts of the kingdom. But still I may claim attention to a narrative relating to humbler life, promising scarcely less important results, and in itself affording as illustrious a display of the sovereign grace of God as any that modern times can boast.

In a part of England where the beauty and fertility of the natural scenery are sharply and painfully contrasted with the deformity and sterility of the moral, only a few miles distant from a very principal road, along which daily passes much of the gaiety and refinement, and not unfrequently also much of the benevolence and piety, of the land, there is a village which the eye of the traveller may detect as he winds up and down the sides of the neighbouring hills -a spot surrounded with the luxuriance of woods and orchards, interspersed with fields of unrivalled freshness, and in the neighbourhood of some of the most lovely eminences our island contains. But fair as the scene has appeared to the sense of successive generations, who have viewed, admired, and enjoyed it, there was everything among its population, morally, to designate it a desert, or something far worse than a desert. A Heathen village could scarcely have presented a more appalling scene of vice and brutality than might there have been witnessed. The Sabbath was to them a day of rest from the drudgery of the world, only to seek the more degrading drudgery of sin and Satan.

159

His attention was one day arrested by the intelligence, that in a small neighbouring town certain individuals were in the habit of privately meeting to read the Holy Scriptures, and converse together upon their contents. The fact was altogether singular and unheard of. After some meditation, he thought he should like to be present, and he accordingly resolved to go. His resolution was soon carried into effect. He witnessed the humble seriousness of a few pious persons, who met for the sole purpose of hearing the Word of God read. His attention was directed to the reading and examination of that Word for himself. He procured a Bible, and began to feel the influence of truths which had hitherto been utterly concealed from his view. The Sabbath, instead of being spent at the public-house, or in pleasure-taking, or idle and wicked gossip, as it usually is among villagers where no Gospel-sounds salute the ear, was now regularly devoted to this highly laudable and useful object. Month after month he cheerfully took his accustomed Sabbath-day's journey, toiling many a mile to hear the Word of God read, and to join in prayer and praise with a very small band of individuals, nearly of the same rank in life with himself. At length the Word of God took deep hold upon his heart. He became a man of faith and of prayer. His neighbours wondered his family admired-and angels rejoiced.

How naturally do the genuine principles of Christianity lead the heart to benevolence! He had scarcely himself become a Christian, before he looked around him on his village neighbours, and deeply and inwardly mourned over their wretched and lost condition. But he not only pitied-he asked himself, What can I do? He could do but little. He felt unable to teach them, and unfit even to attempt it. Yet he was resolved what to do-and the deed was as princely as the principle was divine.

In this village there was one-as rude and ignorant as any of his neighbours, as abhorrent from everything like serious religion, and as much estranged from God, as any around him. He bore the not very promising distinction of the village cobbler. He had passed considerably the meridian of life, and was fast waning into that state in which ignorance and sin are rendered obdurate by habit, and stiff-necked by age. He had spent many a year in the toil some duties of his vocation, and had conversed with most of the equally humble and ignorant individuals of the generation around him, but still he knew not God.

his family in case of his removal, or of himself in case of sickness. This little property he thought would be still better devoted to the building of a small chapel for the service of the village, and he accordingly determined immediately, and unassisted, to prepare an humble building, such as his means would allow, in which he might occasionally hear the Word of God proclaimed to his untaught neighbours. The work was soon effected. Some Christian friends in a neighbouring town engaged to procure a preacher to open the new place of worship. The day arrived-a happy and zealous company of friends met together; and a minister from a distance came to set apart the place for the high and holy use of prayer and praise.

Let my readers, if they can, enter into the joyful emotions of that day-let them conceive the pure and blessed feelings of this humble

Christian, when he saw the building which his own benevolence had reared first opened as a house of prayer for all the people. It was noble and it was lovely-perhaps beyond precedent in modern times. The emotions of this lowly cottager that day might have been envied by a prince, and few of the princes of this world ever did an act so noble and so pious.

Some of the good people who had come to witness the scene, powerfully felt the influence of a zeal so eminent and pure, and voluntarily proposed that they should be allowed, in part at least, to share with him the expense of the erection. They endeavoured to convince him that it was not right for him to bear the whole burden, and that collections would cheerfully be made towards assisting him in this labour of love. But the sacrifice was a luxury to his soul not to be foregone. He had consecrated his little savings to this good work of the Lord, and he was resolved to make it a monument of his gratitude to the Saviour, that might live through succeeding generations.

Still, however, alert in doing good, and glad to find his fellow Christians willing to contribute of their abundance to aid the village cause, he proposed that they should collect what they thought proper, and devote it to the purchase of a horse for the service of such ministers as they might be able to procure, and who might thereby be enabled more frequently to visit this benighted place. This was accordingly done; and this village now enjoys the regular services of a minister of the Gospel, has its Sabbathschool, and various other means of religious instruction. The effect has been striking and delightful, and the humble individual who has been the instrument of all this good, still lives to witness the blessed fruits of his devotedness, and to enjoy a luxury in his latter days which many of ampler means might have, even to a much greater extent, but which few have magnanimity or piety enough to desire or design.

Some of my readers, in affluent or in moderate circumstances, will no doubt admire the zeal and praise the devotedness of the poor cobbler; but let them think whether they cannot do likewise. The rich may lavish their fortunes in building stately mansions, or elegant villas, for their own use; but how much happier would their otium cum dignitate be found, if they would consider the multitudes in our villages, that yet have no place of worship where they can hear the glad tidings of salvation, and who are perishing for lack of that knowledge which, without any painful sacrifice or large privation, might be readily extended to them!

CORRIEGILLS--ARRAN.

BY THE REV. DAVID LANDSBOROUGH, STEVENSTON.

ON Saturday, the 13th of June, 1845, after spending five days very pleasantly in the Island of Arran, I found it necessary to return home. As the steamer

was not to start till three o'clock in the afternoon, we had still several hours at our disposal, and I thought I could not do better than spend part of the time in visiting an old man at some distance, who had sunk into a state of despondency. Feeling that from the infirmities of old age, he was becoming un able for the work arising from a little ground for '| crop, and for keeping a cow, it was arranged that he should live with those into whose hands his little patch of ground had come; but when he had sold his cow, and paid his debts, he found that he had only a single shilling remaining. What was he to do? Instead of casting his cares on Him who has said: "Even unto hoar hairs I am he," he pondered on his state, and brooded over his forlorn condition till faith was enfeebled and reason failed, and, driven on by the fiery darts of the adversary, he attempted to destroy himself. Everything was done to comfort and cheer him. All around were kind. The factor gave him a liberal weekly allowance, and sent a person to take charge of him; but all would not do. He became utterly hopeless, regarding himself as 3 reprobate whose prayers would be rejected, and for whom it was in vain to pray. His abode was more than three miles from Lamlash; but it was one of the finest walks in the island, as in looking back, when about mid-way, Lamlash was seen to the greatest advantage; and on looking forward, the bay and castle of Brodick were lying in beauty before you, with the most magnificent mountain scenery forming the background. I have been told that it resembles the mountain scenery of Skye-thought to be the grandest in Britain.

At this point our path diverged from the public road, and the scene became more sequestered and rural. It was one of nature's halcyon days. The air was calm; the Highland lambkins were racing in merry gambols around the grassy hillocks, or butting at each other in mimic fight. The grasshoppers were chirping amongst the heath; and the lark, though so far up in the sky as to seem little larger than a butterfly, was making the very hills resound with her melodious descant. In such a scene, is it possible to be unhappy? Look at that aged man whom we have now reached, and after a single glance you will say, Alas! it is possible. On coming up to the house, I found several hardy Highlanders busily employed in mending their herring nets. An old man stood motionless beside them. His eye was fixed on vacancy, and it was evident that he took no interest in the work. I at once set him down as the person I came to visit, and I was right. I tried to engage him in conversation, but in vain. I asked him to take me into the house, which he did. Finding that he would not enter into conversation, I spoke to him in such a way as I thought, with God's blessing, was best fitted to dissipate the gloom, and to lead him, in Christ's name, to cast himself at the footstool of the throne, asking mercy to pardon, and grace to help. Before I left him I said, "Would you like that we should join together in prayer to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ ?" "By all means," was his ready reply, and it was the first sentence I had heard him utter. Bowing down, we raised our cry to Him

who can cure all manner of diseases; pleading the merits of that blood which cleanseth from all unrighteousness; and praying for the outpouring of the Spirit, who can cause light to arise in darkness, and who can say to the tempest-tossed soul: "Peace, be still." Whether he who was walking in darkness, seeing no light, joined in prayer, I know not. When I bade him farewell, he spoke not a word; but the feeling manner in which he pressed my hand showed that he was not insensible of the kindness of my intentions.

Dear reader, have you 66 'sana mens in corpore sano"-a sound mind in a healthy body? O be grateful for the precious blessing! Who is there so thankful as he ought? I fear that we must all plead guilty. We are often least thankful for our greatest blessings, because they are common and uninterrupted, though these very circumstances should so greatly increase our gratitude. The sun daily rises on the evil and on the good. How many even of the good allow days and months to pass over their heads without ever, from the heart, thanking the Lord for giving the sun to rule the day! I believe they are more grateful for the lesser light that rules the night, because they at times feel the want of it. In the same manner, the most healthy are not unfrequently the most ungrateful for health; and how many, because they never feel Reason staggering on her throne, never thank God for granting to them the continued use of Reason!

How incomprehensible is mental derangement! Lofty genius is often seen to be near akin to madness. Often derangement is accompanied with increased acuteness of intellect; but then it has got a sinister bias a wrong turn. He "is beside himself;" "he is not in his right mind; "he is not himself;" are expressions that show that a melancholy change has taken place. The person is under a malignant influence that he cannot control. He, in many cases, feels and dreads its approach, and warns those whom he best loves to keep out of his way, and to remove from him the means of self-destruction. "Let not the wise man, then, glory in his wisdom," but let him walk humbly before the Lord, the giver of every blessing, seeking to employ reason aright as a precious talent for which he must render an account.

A venerable and pious octogenarian at Lamlash had long known this old man of whom we have been speaking, and wished me to visit him. For upwards of thirty years he had been a member of a prayermeeting along with him. He had no doubt of the sincerity of his religious profession; and though, under the influence of mental aberration, the enemy had been allowed to prevail, he fondly cherished the hope that the cloud would yet pass away, and that in his right mind, he would yet glorify the Lord. He had often taken sweet counsel with him in going to the house of God, when the place where they delighted to worship was at what many would have regarded as an impracticable distance. What would our gentle citizens think of a nine hours' walk in going to * Since I wrote this I have had the satisfaction of hearing that his health is restored, and that he is now in his right mind.

161

church, and in returning? And if they would think this rather too much along a smooth pavement, or a well-made road, what would they say if it were over steep hills, and through a wild rugged moor, where there is no path except what is formed by sheep, or by the feet of travellers, and where, in some places, the best path in summer is along the rough channel of a mountain stream, and in winter, when the channel is filled with water, along the rougher banks of the rivulet, through knee-deep heather? It is not a trifle that will keep a pious Highlander from the place where the true Gospel sound is heard. Arran had fully shared in the spiritual deadness which pervaded Scotland in the end of the last, and the beginning of the present century. A time of refreshing, however, came from the presence of the Lord. About 1812, under the ministry of the Rev. Mr Macbride of Kilmorie, there was a great revival. He was a truly pious and devoted servant of Jesus Christ, and God blessed his labours. Many waited on his ministry from all parts of the island. The venerable Christian at Lamlash told me that he and his afflicted friend had for years been in the habit of going to Kilmorie on Sabbath-a walk of nearly four hours; and that after the death of Mr Macbride they were in the habit of attending the Rev. Mr M'Millan, then at Lochranza, about fifteen miles distant, and part of it the most rugged road ever I travelled. Far was he, however, from grudging the toil. He looked forward to the Sabbath with spiritual longing. Thirsting for the Word, he never thought the journey tedious; and though in winter he had often to return by lantern-light, he had been strengthened by the Gospel feast--he had much that was pleasant to muse upon by the way, and he never found himself less fit for labour on Monday because of his necessary journeyings on the Lord's-day. "Blessed is the man whose strength is in Thee-in whose heart are the ways of them. Who passing through the Valley of Baca, make it a well; the rain also filleth the pools. They go from strength to strength; every one of them in Zion appeareth before God."

My son had accompanied me, and for the sake of variety we returned by the Corriegills shore. A conchologist might pick up several good things about Corriegills, but there is little to be got in a hurried walk. Amphidesma compressum, however, is got at low water-a rare shell on the opposite coast. Some time after this, there was sent to me a bottle dredged not far from this place. It was full of fine black mud, containing some rare Annelides, and richly incrusted outside with Balani, and various kinds of zoophytes; adhering to which I found Patella fulva, a little limpet, that was new to me. We got some beautiful sea-weeds, but nothing that we had not before fallen in with. Among those dredged by us on a preceding evening, there were some rarer Algæ than I at first was aware of. Among some of them that I sent to Mr Ralfs, at Penzance, he was delighted to find, in fine fructification, Calithamnion seirospermum, which is very rare in England, and

Since this was written a beautiful figure of it has appeared in Dr Harvey's Phycologia Britannica, under a new name-Seirospora Griffithsiana,